Because you would tell me, wouldn’t you?
When the smile on your face was no longer because of me.
When you didn’t wake up every day looking forward to seeing me.
When your face no longer lit up at the mentioned of my name.
Wouldn’t you tell me, though?
If one day you stopped at a bookstore and no longer thought of me.
When an old song came on the radio and it wasn’t about me
even when it used to be.
If you could eat my favourite ice cream without tasting my lips against yours.
When you turned to look at a familiar silhouette but no longer remember who it was.
You will tell me.
With your absence,
with your disappearance.
With your slow withdrawal,
with your decreased interest.
With your one word replies,
and your silence.
But I refused to be told.